


Fall Safe Inside

by TheSixthRedux (LostInTheCityofAngels)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Convention, Fox Mulder Angst, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Panic Attacks, Short Story, Social Anxiety, a ridiculous fbi convention and panel that mulder has to attend, canon - i guess, fbi convention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInTheCityofAngels/pseuds/TheSixthRedux
Summary: A short story in which Mulder has untreated severe anxiety and OCD and he has to go to a mandatory FBI Convention and Panel. The event is only a few days, but Scully is too caught up in work so she can't join him until later.Prompt I received from my sister: Anxiety
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my sister who doesn't appreciate the x-files but she requested this anyway so whatever](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+sister+who+doesn%27t+appreciate+the+x-files+but+she+requested+this+anyway+so+whatever).



Mulder's P.O.V.

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, SCULLY?" I ask over the phone. I can't believe it! She's telling me she can only attend the last day because she's busy doing autopsies. Skinner is just fine with that idea! Well, he's definitely biased. Maybe they're having an affair. No. That's ridiculous. Obviously not.

"Mulder. You'll be fine." She sounds sincere.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever," I reply, hanging up.

I have to attend this stupid convention and panel, mandated by Skinner. Can you believe that? I think he's trying to get back at me for something. That's the only reason. I need to remember why. Was it from three years ago when I caught him and his secretary having sex in his office? Was it all the times I stormed in or interrupted him? Maybe it was that time when I attacked him in the psychiatric ward but- no. That was for a reason... he helped me there. He forgave me. So what did I do to have this happen to me?

I'm too spooky for everyone. I'll get mocked, judged or even worse, they'll say it in my face instead of behind my back. Nearly dying from a forest monster honestly seemed better than going to that convention that I never went to but now I have to go to this years. Kill me now. Maybe I can get a severe hemorrhoidal condition and get a pass.

Well it's a bit late now. It's almost as if I follow orders against some invisible force. As much as I don't want to, I get my car and start the three hour drive to Richmond. I've packed enough. I should be fine. Stupid me. Always getting myself in situations. I hate this.

Driving for three hours can do a lot. The silence is deafening, so I turn the radio. That doesn't change the fact that I zone out regardless, and end up thinking too much. Thinking about what? The mistake I made ten years ago, the one time someone insulted me at the Academy, what Scully is wearing or what would we be doing right now if we were married? Well, it all was something like that. At least I wasn't filing 302s.

Every five minutes, my trail of thoughts leads back to Scully. Is she looking at intensities right now? A brain or a hand maybe. Would she rather be sitting in the car with me, or she actually enjoys cutting open dead people? Oh great. I have ten minutes until I get to the hotel. I'm sure it's just swarming with chatty law enforcement officers and officials. I'll need to avoid them.

I pull into the parking lot and grab my suitcase. Deep breath. You got this. Run the dialogue, like you have for the past hour. You state your credentials, and you get a room and avoid everyone unless it's absolutely necessary. Easy. Or is it? I slam my hand against the steering wheel. Goddammit, this is frustrating. Have I eaten too many sunflower seeds? I need to stop playing with my teeth. Some damn oral fixation. Is my breath nice? What if this turns into some Tailhook thing? I'm being ridiculous. Just get out of the damn car.

I get out, my credentials and badge on me, and go pop the trunk to get my suitcase. So far, so good. I walk to the elevator and press the button. Please don't let anyone be in there. Phew. They aren't. I get in and press the lobby floor. The elevator advertises the FBINAA convention. Why? It's not entertaining. I feel bad for the poor folks who wanted a lovely vacation in Richmond this weekend, and they run into law enforcement. Or do I? No. I don't.

I get out at the lobby floor, and right away I notice the lobby is just packed. It's bright and loud and I'm annoyed. The line is long for check-in. Kill me again. Why are all these agents friendly? Sure, communication and teamwork is a big factor in being a good agent. Well he managed to graduate at the top of his class without those skills so he still must be doing something right.

"Which division?" I hear someone talking. It only occurs they're talking to me. I look up and see the man in front of me in line. He looks like he's fresh out of the academy. I sigh. There's still about seven people in front.

"Hmmm?" I heard what he said clearly, yet I want him to repeat that and I couldn't explain it if you asked me to.

"Which division are you coming from?"

"D.C." Now stop talking to me.

"Oh! Wow! I wanted a transfer to D.C. but I ended up getting stuck at a satellite office in Washing State. Not that I don't mind. I'm Special Agent Tom Jonas."

I didn't ask. I still shake his hand because I have to keep a sense of professionalism, especially respecting the headquarters. Is it just me or it's getting hot in here? "Fox Mulder," I reply.

"Fox Mulder!?"

Yes. I said it the first time. Did you hear? "Mmhmm."

"Oh my gosh! We studied your case with Patterson! I just graduated the Academy last year! How did you do it? Your profiling skills are one of a kind! I know all about you."

Thanks. Now you're making everything worse. You're making my paranoia increase. I wouldn't say I have any issues but Scully thinks otherwise.

"Good for you, kid," I reply.

"I hear you're going to be speaking at one of the panels! I'm excited."

I forgot about that. Shit. What was I talking about? Agent Jonas was definitely getting on my nerves. The line scoots up and it's now three people ahead. I nod again.

"Is it true that you now live in the Bureau's basement and exposing aliens?"

I want to punch him. "I don't live down there, but I guess."

"No! That's so cool," he says. "I've always wanted to work for you!"

"I'm not even an SAC or ASAC." Why do I keep talking? This is awful. Can he see the sweat on my forehead as I wipe it away? My hands are sweating just by clutching the suitcase handle tightly. Finally my prayers were answered.

"Next in line!" Agent Jonas told me he'd see me later and checked in. Now it was my turn. I was too busy talking to Agent Jonas that I didn't even have time to rehearse. Geez Mulder. You really are some poor son of a bitch. Fix yourself.

"Are you here for the convention, sir?"

It's a bit obvious. I nod and pass her my ID and badge.

"Alright, Fox. You'll be room 731 on floor seven."

I cringe when she says my first name, but floor seven. Maybe I'll be lucky. I smile as I take the key. I think she's turned on by me and I like that- a lot. But for now my main focus is getting to my room.

I get in the elevator and I see the banners advertised for the panel part. Reminds me that I need to figure out what I'm speaking on. I make note to call Scully right away. Entering my room, I cringe. The window is the full length from floor to ceiling almost. Anyone could look in from the building across. I always wonder if anyone cares to look. One could never know. I bet X is lurking around somewhere.

I grab the phone and dial Scully's number. Please answer.

"Scully, it's me."

"Mulder. Are you there yet or are you throwing up in the bathroom because someone rearranged your pencils?"

Not funny. "I'm here at the hotel. I think I'll get room service instead of the pre-dinner event. What am I discussing at the panel?"

"Didn't you- oh you forgot the packet Skinner put on your desk. I can fax it to you. It's an open Q & A."

"I'm going to die."

"No you aren't, Mulder. It's not the end of the world."

"You don't understand. I need you." I can picture Scully blushing but then again maybe she's rolling her eyes. "What are you doing right now?"

"Finishing up on work still. Try not to make a scene," she says to me before we say goodbye. The audacity that woman has.

Lucky for me, the hotel has adult channels. I hate the whole rearrangement of the hotel room. I close the curtains first of all, but a fucking sliver of light is shining through where they both meet. Whoever designed this hotel needs to go to Hell. I spend so much damn time in the basement, you'd thing I would bring clips and tape. I keep yanking but nothing happens. This is ridiculous. I need to somehow get a clip or rope. I guess I have to go walking around the lobby. Maybe they have a shop. It'll be quick.

I make my way back to the lobby and realize there is no damn shop so what so I do? I drive to the damn hardware store and I buy myself some duct tape. That took up twenty minutes and I make my way back and tape them together. Perfect. I admire my artwork and then rearrange the furniture to be like my apartment. Even better. Loosening my tie, I turn on the television and look through the menu, reading every single fact to pass the time and take my mind off other things. I think I'll get a sandwich. I call up the room service and they bring the single sandwich. I thank the person quickly, handing a small tip and get back to my couch.

An hour passes and I can only watch for so long. I'm getting restless and my goddamn insomnia never helps. Scully will think I'm annoying if I call her up at this hour. I shouldn't bother her. I bother her enough. According to her, this is probably all my sins catching up.

As desperately as I want to go to sleep, I just can't and it truly fucking sucks. I take a peek out the window and nothing is different. I start to wonder if I'm the only agent in this place that is disappointing. I can't help it that I don't want to be around them. I have reasons.

I look up to the ceiling. I'm tempted to shoot pencils but I don't want to pay property damages. I'll become an embarrassment to the Bureau, but as if I already wasn't. I need to shut my brain up and I almost am about to when I hear a knock. It's late, so naturally, I draw my gun. Cautiously I stand to the side. "Who is it?"

"Fox, it's me."

Who? I open the door because it's a female voice. Turns out, it's the lady who checked me in. I admit, she's hot, but I can't let her in.

"Are you finding everything alright? Sorry about this late hour."

Why is my heart racing? I can't let her in. But if I don't, I seem rude. Oh god. This couldn't get any worse. Decisions, decisions and little time to think. I'm shaking. What do I say?   
"I'm fine." That's all I say. It's her turn to speak. Why isn't she saying anything? Is she trying to act seductive?

"So, what are you up to? You weren't at the dinner."

"I don't do that."

"I saw your name on the posters. You're speaking at the convention."

"Only FBINAA members are allowed."

"I happen to be hotel staff. I'm looking forward, Mr. FBI. I'll see you later when you consider my offer."

Oh god. She's a hooker. One more person to make me worry. I need that onset hemorrhoidal condition now.

Closing the door, I right away hear my heart in my head. Calm down. I need to calm down. It's not as bad as other times it has been. I manage to get my heart rate normal after a few minutes. I proceed to fall asleep to the sound of the television eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up from the alarm I set. It's 8:00 a.m. the convention starts in exactly an hour. Breakfast is free if I go downstairs and say in with the FBI. Do I want to go talk to people? I don't. I have to shower. I need to make sure I look presentable.

It's now 8:20 a.m. I am ready to go. Rehearse lines? Too many scenarios to consider. I need to calm down. It's only the morning. Oh god. What if I run into that front desk woman? I'll avoid her. The panel isn't until tomorrow. I technically could sit in my room all day although Skinner probably has people watching me. I have to interact, do the stupid team building activities. It's horrible, but would be better if my partner was here.

Every ding I hear on the elevator, I hope it doesn't stop. It's a busy time. Of course it's going to stop somewhere. What is my luck? The elevator stops five times out of the seven floors. The people that get in are clearly other law enforcement.I'm squished in the back, and that god awful ringing is back for a bit. It's too crowded in here. Let me out.

As soon as the doors open, I bolt straight out and go see the breakfast they have to offer. If I wasn't already angry at the long line, it was that the tables were organized in long rows, kind of like school lunch rooms. At least there were't any name-tags but that type of round table event would come later. If I already haven't said it enough, kill me now.

Everyone is already chatting, presumable with their partner WHO COULD make it with them or a colleague. Am I really that lonely? I have no one? I pass the halls everyday to get to the basement and I don't think I know more than five other agent's names in the division. Hardy har har. My mind is now focusing on aliens. I put into the consideration that maybe getting abducted and tortured would be better than this type of torture. Save me Grey!

I can't be eating anything that'll make me look bad or sick. I don't want to throw up either because that would definitely drive me to kill myself of embarrassment. I can't look like a total loser with my bag of seeds so I scoop out some scrambled eggs, and find myself a spot at the most empty table at the end. The ends of long tables are the nicest seats because if someone does sit next to you, it's only one person of they're across, rather than being sandwiched.

So far no sign of the front desk woman. One point for today. Luckily for the hotel, the convention center is connected through one hallway so by now many people are setting up their exhibits etc. I take a bite out of the eggs. It's not motel quality, but it's not Vegas quality either. It's one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed in because usually I stay in shitty motels.

"Mulder, you're the why we had to ask the President for higher taxes. We have to pay for your damn motel and hospital bills!" Skinner had told me.

Well, maybe I get thrown in shit holes of a motel because of that. I never saw it that way until now. See? I discover things about myself. It's now 8:45 a.m. I need to get my ID and badge to understand this. I need time to prepare because I'll fuck up otherwise.

I go to the entrance near the doors. It's quite packed and busy just by taking a look. I had asked the Lone Gunman to join me and I could get them passes but they declined. I remembered when I met them at a convention and ended up almost-naked on the floor of a warehouse hallucinating and rambling about aliens. I don't remember it, but if Frohike, Byers and Langley are telling the truth, I'm forever embarrassed. I don't think they would lie to me.

"Last name and chapter?"

"Mulder. MD/DE Chapter from Section Three. D.C."

"Ahh! Fox Mulder!"

Of course this guy has probably heard of me. I just nod as he hands me my ID to pin on my shirt. "All the information is on this sheet."

He hands me an additional sheet with my name and where I have to go. The first day is team building exercises. Oh god. The rumors were true. His badge said group #20. That's a lot of groups.

"How did they split the groups?"

"Well usually it's partners with other divisions. Whoever your partner is will join you."

"If she's not here?" I ask.

"You'll be representing your own division then."

Help. Help me. I can't do this. But I'll look bad if I don't. But if I do, Skinner won't beat me ass. I need a good reputation. It's all the reputation. It's time to not be spooky anymore. I enter the room and of course, it's what you expect a convention to look like. It's loud and bright, people are everywhere and I don't know where to go. Truly being alone sucks. If Scully were here,I would definitely tell more confident.i don't know why. I just would. Maybe I'd feel less self conscious walking around.

I was dreading every second so I decided to call Scully again. Of course she didn't answer. She was busy. She was coming tomorrow night and I don't think I cold stand another day. I can already feel myself breathing heavily again but Maybe its just the lights. Don't freak out now, I tell myself. There's this annoying tight feeling in my chest that almost never goes away. I don't tell Scully. I've had this feeling ever since Samantha. The only time it feels clear is when- well I can't think of a time.

I hate this, but I've said that to myself too many times. What do I do now? I just walk in circles. The only thing I can do. I so badly want to go back to my room but I know the stupid activities will start soon. If it's stacking furniture- so help me.

The overhead speakers give off an announcement and everyone listens in. Someone says that the information sheet has a map of the rooms to split off into to. I follow and again the fear comes over me. I have to interact again. I'm not a fucking cold person. I just can't handle these situations without flipping out. Scully tells me most agents enjoy it because they can be all friendly and not intense. She told me to relax. Can I ever relax?

Entering the room, I see other agents in there, and just my luck, no one I know. Not even an agent I randomly encountered. If there's something about me, it's I have trust and attachment issues. I have to earn trust. It's hard for me to find someone new. Exactly why I love Scully. She earned my trust and I earned hers. Even Skinner has my trust although I know that the smoking man blackmails him sometimes. The only other person I trusted was Reggie, but he sadly got murdered and I was devastated. The point being, there is exactly no way that I'll build trust fast with these people.

There are only seven other people in the room and I see everyone has a partner except this one young agent. I recognize him. Agent Jonas, out of all agents!

"Fox Mulder! We're partners!" He excitedly comes to stand near me.

"Call me Mulder," I say.

"This isn't work. We can go by first names."

"I prefer not." My heart is beating fast again. I know if I spend longer than two hours doing this crap that I won't make it.

"Ok..." He looks at me funny. "I'm just excited!"

"Who's your original partner back at your satellite office?"

"She couldn't make it, sadly," he says glumly. Maybe this guy isn't bad after all. He can relate to me.

"Same goes with my partner," I tell him back.

We all introduce ourselves and all of a sudden everyone is chatting as if they've known each other for years. I haven't uttered a single word in this thirty minute period so far.

"Mulder. What are goals you have for working for the bureau?" Okay. Since when are we talking about goals? This is elementary school level crap like when the teachers force you to share as if it's like group therapy or something.

Well my mind is racing again. What do I want to say? I can't think and if I say um, I'll sound stupid. I need to think of an answer and fast so I don't look stupid.

"Um-" Goddammit. I already did what I said I wasn't going to. Another mistake to add to my list. "I just need to find the truth." Great. Now they're looking at me. They know I'm "Spooky Mulder." Maybe they won't question it. Never mind. They do.

"Care to elaborate?"

"No." Now I sound like some anti-social cold hearted asshole. That's not me, but I can't tell them. I'm sweating again. Dammit. I could take off my coat but there's nowhere to set it down. Why did I even wear my coat? I'm an idiot. I can't hold it or tie it around my waste because that is annoying. What if I leave and drop it off at my room? No, because if I miss this and my group moves on, I don't like looking like I'm lost and don't know what to do. Am I hyperventilating? Everyone is looking at me strangely even more. I realize I've been holding my breathe. I let it out and put my head down. Tom pats my back. I want to tell him he doesn't have permission to do that but I don't. I speak up. I so badly want to be in control but it doesn't work! My damn brain. They finally turn their attention off me.

"Furniture towers."

Fuck me. This is what I dreaded. I can't do this. But it's competitive, and I have to win. I just can't not win. These idiots are now working for me, but I can't yell at them! In my head I have these scenarios were I am all confident and tell everyone about what they're doing but no, I have to be some nervous freak. Such is life.

Before I know it, we're done and I think I'm going to collapse. We better have won because that was damn exhausting. We take a tape measurer and write down the score. This is getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. Obviously we're adults and no one would cheat, or at least hope not. We gather into the main convention room, and I split off from my group again to sit in the back, alone. How I wish Scully was here.

Turns out, we didn't even win. Fuck this activity. I'm out of here. I literally cannot stand this anymore. I run out of the center and go to my room, locking the door and putting it in do not disturb. If Skinner wanted to see me tortured, he's doing a damn fine job right now. They're watching me. They're going to tell Skinner about how I skipped out, but how could they? Stop it. I slap my forehead. I need to be better than that. Take my mind off the pain. What do I love... pop a sunflower seed. Good. Now grab your pencils.

I grab a packet of pencils I have with me, and the hand held sharpener. It'll do. I have plenty of time. I sharpen the first, then sharpen every other following, to be the exact same length. I also give a quick blow to get the shavings off. I line them up. Scully isn't here to interrupt me or stare at me weirdly. All the pencils are in a row. Good. That's good. I look up to the ceiling. I doubt anyone will notice holes. These pencils aren't even sharp enough.

I was right. All of the tips broke off as I tried to shoot them into the ceiling. I curse under my breath as I resharoen them, lay them out and then decide to call Scully again.

"Scully. I'm dying. I might end up on one of your tables soon. Tell Skinner he's a son of a bitch." That slipped out of my mouth. Shit. What if she's on speaker phone? What if it's Skinner behind the phone? I didn't even get to hear her before I talk about myself. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

"Mulder... I've told you many times, if you want to see-"

"No." I know what she's going to say. She's going to say if I want to get better, I should see a shrink. I don't believe that crap. I'm not going too. Some asshole shrink already had once prescribed me Clozapine. I wasn't insane. He thought I was. If only he were in my point of view, if anyone as a matter of fact was, they'd know that I'm the only sane one around here.

"Are you coming soon?" I ask.

"I'm hoping by tomorrow night, but it might be earlier." Please come early. Please come early. Please come early.

"Yeah. I think I'm going to resign."

"Very funny," she says sarcastically. When will she ever learn? "Aren't you supposed to be busy right now?"

"Uh, bathroom break," I mutter.

"Ok..." she's not convinced. "See you tomorrow."

"Mmmhmm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued!


	3. Chapter 3

Today was the panel. When I woke up, I kind of didn't want to, but you know, my body made that choice. I woke up already with an achy, tight chest and stumbled into the bathroom to get ready. I only have thirty minutes. Fuck. I think the panel is three hours. How is that possible. It'll feel like three years. I'll have to wing it although I don't want to.

I look in my suitcase and obviously I have to wear a suit for this panel. I only brought one tie. Is it too ridiculous? Maybe that's why no one takes me seriously. Too late. I get dressed and don't have time for breakfast but I don't think that's a problem anyway. If I have to throw up, I don't need my stomach filled with 3 pounds of potatoes.

My hands already sweating, I have to wipe them on my pants. I make my way to the lobby, and Jonas eyes me and walks over.That kid is obsessed with me.

"Agent Mulder! The panel is starting in fifteen minutes. Everyone is excited!"

I look at him funny. "Really?" No, duh. Why would this guy he lying? Way to sound stupid.

"Yeah!" He smiles and heads off to get a seat. I take a deep breath as I look around me. Everyone already almost has a seat and holy shit, that's a lot of people. Scully, help me.

I wait a bit because I don't want to sit up there with everyone looking at me just yet. I'm so intently focusing around me that I jump when someone taps my shoulder. I turn around and it's hooker, front desk woman.

"Fox. I missed seeing you yesterday."

I should just tell her. "I'm gay." No, I'm not obviously but she's given me no other choice. Oh great. That's a bit fuck up. Her face falls. I bet she's going to tell everyone here now. I want to ram my head against a wall, maybe a few times. People need to just back off from me. I wipe my palms on my pants again, several times. It's hot again but no one else around me looks hot. It's getting late.

"I uh- have to go," I say before briskly walking to the door, not looking back. My name tag is visibly displayed where I have to sit and everyone else is there. I gulp as I make my way up and take my seat. Right in the fucking middle. Could it be any better?

I take a look at the other panelists. I didn't have time to study them, but I'm pretty sure they're from headquarters like San Francisco, and Quantico. Bigger offices. I'm from D.C. I've now confirmed that Skinner did this to torture me. There's no other option.

I look to the crowd. They're all looking at me. I can't fuck up. Don't twitch, don't even look back. Act normal. What is normal? I notice a couple water bottles in front of me, so I take one and gulp the entire thing. Well that gives me an excuse in case I need to leave to the bathroom. Obviously more people are looking, but let's just start already.

"Hello! Welcome to the 25th annual FBI convention! Today we have a special panel with agents from the main field offices who work as head in their division. Our highlighted speaker who was fortunate enough to join us is Agent Fox Mulder from D.C.!" The man motions to me and I just awkwardly lift my hand up before placing it back down.

It was such a simple task, and I did it well so why did it feel so goddamn awkward? I'm getting restless again. I grab a pencil on the table and spin it around with my finger. It's silent, almost too silent and I look up. All eyes are still on me.

"Agent Mulder, care to tell everyone a bit about yourself."

No. "Sure." What do I say? Everyone knows my so-called "sob story," so what gives. "You can call me Mulder. I work in the X-Files division in D.C."

Awkward. It's always awkward. No one looked impressed, or maybe they were in too much awe. Either way, it didn't make me feel good about myself.

"Tell us about the X-Files division."

Here we go. This is where the mockery begins but screw them. "Cases that usually the FBI would abandon or give up on. They're mostly seen as paranormal. I, along with my partner Scully who couldn't make it here, investigate these cases. I used to work in VCU."

Ok. maybe it's not too bad.

The other panelists took several minutes to themselves and then it was guided questions that would eventually lead to personal Q +As. Maybe I could stall and they would never have enough time for that.

Of course I didn't speak unless absolutely necessary. I think I've had three bottles of water now but nothing I had could calm me down. It's true, I was in the verge of an episode, an attack and I didn't heed that right now. I try to casually feel my pulse and is racing. The agent next to me covered his mix and leans over to my ear.

"Are you alright?"

I nod. Why do I do that? I clearly am not as much as I want to tell myself that. An hour passed and I so badly want to call Scully but she's busy right now. She could be arriving any minute possibly so I every so often scan the entire room. I feel like a disappointment to all the people who probably wanted to hear spilt stories. They're wasting their time.

Before I knew it, were too in a ten minute break and then a q and a. I right away go to an empty room and call Scully. No answer. I ring her a few more times. Nothing. Don't panic. Maybe this is a good sign. She's on her way here. Let's hope for the best.

If someone were to describe me on one word, it's motivated. I am incredibly motivated when it comes to my work, but this panel- that's not necessary. I splash my face with cold water and it's only know that my penis is becoming the worse. I shakily make my way back to my seat, and so badly want to close my eyes with my head down but I can't do that as everyone will judge me. 

My legs start to shake, but luckily no one can see under the table. Of course, just my luck, I get answered the first question.

"This question is for Agent Mulder. How has being in the X-Files division made you feel like you're seeing your country and protecting it?"

This is where everything gots to Hell but fuck that. They need to know the truth. "Well, is you really want to know. There are hidden forces, Syndicates formed long before most of us in this room were born. They've secretly had hidden knowledge that they are trying to keep from people from exposing. I work on these smaller cases in all a bigger effort to finally be able to share the truth." There. I said it, and I think it went terrible. Did anyone notice I mumbled or stuttered a couple words? Was my voice shaky? Did I sound weird?

He seemed satisfied with the answer, and while the other panelists got their questions, I kept hoping for Scully to walk in. Wouldn't that be a magnificent sight?

It was halfway in, and then some idiot just had to ask a triggering question. As if I want already nervous enough. 

"Agent Mulder, is your sister your only motivation for this truth? Have you ever considered the fact that aliens never took her? Is she dead?"

I can't breathe but I have to pull myself together. "Uh, well, I-I think-" I sound so damn stupid, but it's not my fault. Someone mentions my sister and I immediately start to freak out. I'm reminded of that night again, how she screamed for me but I couldn't move. I remember just recently finding closure after all these years in that field where I saw her spirit. Oh god. I feel my tears welling up and my nose is getting congested. That's not good when I can barely already breathe. Somewhat in a violent matter, I keep rubbing my forehead with a lot of pressure, trying to get the sweat away.

I clench my fists, and the pencils I'm holding snap. I look down for a minute and tell myself when I open them, I'll be fine. I'm not. Im covered in tears and sweet, and worse, I an hyperventilating so goddamn loud that I'm sure the entire room can hear me. I keep one hand on my chest and I can tell my heart rate is definitively somewhere near two hundred beats per minute. I've ha add enough of these to know it's not a heart attack, but is still miserable. How long has it been? No one is saying anything. Maybe it has been three seconds but I feel like I've been like this for an hour. 

I can't control this feeling any longer. My chest is getting tighter, and if I don't leave, I don't think I'll make it. I abruptly get up, knocking over some water bottles but I don't care as i I stumble off the raised platform and head out the door. I know everyone is looking. I just need to make it to the bathroom but the hallway is a long stretch. 

My heart is still pounding in my head, my chest is tightening up, and my breathing is getting worse. I grab onto the wall for support but slowly my legs give way. I'm curled up on my side, my eyes closed. At this point I forget what I was and just am trying not to die. Scully had told me I'd Impossible to die like this, but she hasn't experienced it. What does she know? 

I can't focus on anything. Why isn't it stopping? I just want to pass out because honestly that would be a better solution. I shortly hear people asking me if I'm okay. Clearly I'm not.

"Agent Mulder, are you alright?"

"Do you want us to call someone?"

"What happened?"

Too many fucking questions and I can't help but let out a small groan. I open my eyes and everyone is crowding me. I want tell them to back off but my voice isn't letting me.

"Just breathe," I hear one of them say. Everything is becoming worse and worse because now I start to think, is there some sadistic person recording this? Whenever they think of me, will they think of this incident? Probably. That's not good. I should end it all now.

Just then I hear someone shouting, and who is it? I recognize the voice from anywhere, but my head is still half buried in the disgusting lobby carpet, my hand covering my face as I shake.

"What is going on?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm his partner, Dana Scully. Move out of the way." 

I briefly thought i smile, picturing my short fierce partner trying tell tell a bunch of bigger male agents to move out of the way, but i felt a shadow clear so they must've stepped back. My breaths so loud, dammit!

She put a hand on my back, and started soothing me. I like that. I open my eyes to see Scully close to me, but also everyone else staring still, so I look back away. The lights are also hurting my eyes. Damn flourescents.

"Scully, turn off the lights," I tell her.

Scully tells someone and soon the whole hallway is dark. The lengths she goes for me. I take note to buy her something later to thank her. I really should've done that all the times that she helps me.

"I'm going to die," I tell her.

"No, Mulder. Take my hand." I feel her hand slip into mine, and I squeeze it tightly. Some reassurance washes over me.

"How long ago did this happen?" I can tell she is asking someone else. 

"Someone asked him a question about his sister and he freaked out," I hear someone tell Scully. "Probably about six minutes ago."

I'm right here. No need to annoy me even more. Six minutes is a long time for this. He's setting me off again and I squeeze Scully's hand tighter to let her know. God, I am such a mess. Look at me. If only I could see what this scene looked like. I bet the entire conference is watching me.

"Mulder, I know you keep track of every date we've had, every kiss, every fun thing we did together. Can you list them out for me?"

I feel like such a kid, but she's right. I know everything.

"The first time, in that motel room, is when I caught feelings, " I mutter but I'm still shaking. My breathing does seem like its getting a big better. I finally open my eyes and see Scully looking right at me.

"Good. The second?"

"The second- probably when we went on that trip to Idaho together." I smile thinking about it. After going through everything, I realize I've calmed down now, and Scully helps me sit up. I accept the water she hands me.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. I look around and everyone around me honestly looks more worried than her. The man who asked the question finally walks up to me.

"I'm so sorry- I didn't know I would cause this to happen. I thought- I'm sorry..." 

Time to move on. "You didn't know." I kind of shoo him off.

"Can you stand up?" Scully asks me as she helps me up.

"Yeah." We go into a private room and I don't let go of her hand.

"Scully, you have perfect timing."

"Shocking. I'm sorry for leaving you alone at the panel. I just had to catch up on work and-"

She shouldn't be sorry at all. I'm such a baby that I can't manage without her. It's like she's my mother or something but yet again, I'm thankful for her. "Don't apologize. But- I don't want to go back to the panel."

"It's alright. You don't have to. What if we get some lunch, and then drive back to your apartment where we'll watch Plan 9 From Outer Space. How does that sound?"

She sure does know how to make me happy. I don't deserve her. She's willing to watch a movie she hates, but she knows I like to make me feel better. Kind of like how after a kid cries, they get candy.

"What will Skinner say about this?"

"We can discuss this later, but it wouldn't hurt talking to someone, to get help." She's saying that if I talk to the FBI shrink, then I can get help and I could have a reason to give Skinner. He's probably already noticed anyway. My behavior is more obvious than I think.

"I trust you," I tell her as we go to my room to collect my things.

"I know, but I'm licensed for that." We avoid certain words like "psychiatrist" or talk about my "anxiety." We've never once uttered it, and nor have I really thought about those terms as being labels because as far as I was concerned, 'if I didn't get diagnosed, I don't have it.'

"Maybe." That'll give her enough hope for me.

"Thank you, Mulder."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! Again, it's not a topic I would tackle too often as it's kind of difficult to write, but any feedback, comment and me know or DM me on my instagram @ the_sixth_redux


End file.
